


The Care and Keeping of Your Alien Baby

by mldrgrl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family Feels, Sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 12:18:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10967088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: Portrait of an alien baby baby mama and an alien baby baby daddy





	The Care and Keeping of Your Alien Baby

With Scully on maternity leave and Mulder with all the time in the world, the only thing he could think to do was show up at her apartment early in the mornings and leave late into the night.  She didn't seem to mind...much.  He made excuses for it, called it boredom, but the truth was, since her brief little hospital stint, he was terrified of not being there if something went wrong.

 

Scully was hellbent on what the pregnancy books he'd been reading called “nesting.”  She cleaned cupboards, or tried to, but her belly always seemed to be in the way and since Mulder kept insisting he was there to help, not to be a nuisance to her, she put him to work.  So, he cleaned cupboards and emptied the little spare room under her scrutiny and supervision, boxing up books and knick knacks to take to goodwill later in the week.  He painted the walls a soft eggshell, questioning why it wasn't pink or blue or seafoam green or sunshine yellow, but she shook her head and insisted on eggshell.

 

The crib she ordered came in a box, the instructions with it came in French.  Mulder sat on the floor in the freshly painted, sparsely furnished spare room and metaphorically scratched his head as he studied the drawings of little wooden pieces that didn't seem to fit where they were supposed to.  

 

“I think it wants me to screw this piece into this one,” he said, holding up two wooden slats.  

 

“Let me see.”  Scully could no longer bend over easily, but she reached for the paper on the floor anyway.

 

“You look like one of those little Weeble people we saw at the toy store.”

 

“Thank you so much.”

 

Mulder smiled and dropped the slats to take her hands and help her kneel down.  It was like Lamaze class all over again except he didn't get to hold her this time.  She leaned over so she was on her hands and knees and maneuvered herself to the floor, expelling a long breath as she sat down.  The instructions were still just out of reached and she made a grabbing motion for them until Mulder slid them over.

 

“Thank you,” she said.  After a few moments of study, she pointed out to one of the pieces he'd just set down and another.  “That piece and  _ that _ one.”

 

“You sure?  It looks too short.”

 

“Its got the two slots those others don't.”

 

“So does this one,” Mulder answered, picking up a piece on his other side.”

 

“Damn.”

 

“We’ll figure it out.  Even if I have to get a French dictionary from the library, we’ll figure it out.”

 

It took three hours of construction, deconstruction, and further construction to figure it out.  Scully stayed on the floor for most of it, frustrated that she couldn't help and wishing she'd thought to do it sooner.  Once her input was no longer needed and they were pretty sure the frame was holding up, she started working on putting the mobile together instead, tying little wooden stars into place.  When she was finished and wound it up so the music played, Mulder smiled as he twisted the screwdriver

 

“I’m almost done here, I think,” Mulder said.  “This should be the last piece.”

 

“I should see about dinner.”

 

Mulder put down the screwdriver and had to help her off the floor, laughing when she struggled to get to her feet.  She gave him an annoyed look and then let go of one of his hands to clutch her stomach.  He covered her hand with his, panic face on in an instant.

 

“What?” he asked.

 

“Just kicking,” she assured him, wincing and rubbing the side of her stomach.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”  She glanced up at him and then took his hand and moved it to where the baby’s foot was thumping against her abdomen.

 

“I think you’re incubating the next Michael Flatley in there,” he said.

 

Scully chuckled and then winced again.  “Don’t make me laugh, Mulder, my bladder can’t handle it right now.”

 

“I’m serious, Scully, that’s not kicking, it’s Riverdance.”

 

Scully pushed Mulder away and rushed to the bathroom.  Mulder laughed and finished screwing in the last piece on the crib.  There was still a handful of screws left, but he figured Scully need not know about those and he dropped them into the little toolbox of hers she’d produced at the start of the project.  Before he put the mattress on, he tested the drop of the front side, making sure it worked.

 

“Mulder?” Scully appeared in the doorway, just as he was wiggling the mattress into place.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You staying for dinner?”  

 

“Pizza?”

 

“Well…”  She came closer to the crib and then ran a hand over the sloped side of the frame.

 

“We could go out,” he said, hopeful.  It had been pizza the last four nights in a row.  They both looked down at her flannel pajamas.  “Or I could pick something up.”

 

“Hmm…”  She reached inside the crib and pressed on the mattress.

 

“But, I suppose the baby really wants pizza?”

 

Scully had a bashful look on her face when she raised her eyes to his.  He smiled down at her and she looked away, smoothing her hand over the mattress.

 

“You did a good job,” she said.  “Thank you.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Mulder, I…”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m...scared,” she said, almost in a whisper.

 

He turned towards her, but she stayed facing the crib so he put his hand on her shoulder.  “Of what?” he asked.  “The birth?”

 

She shrugged.

 

“Talk to me, Scully,” he said.

 

“I’ve been having dreams that the baby...that something isn't right.”

 

“I thought you ran tests.  You said everything was fine.”

 

“I did.  It is.  It’s stupid, I know, I’m just…”

 

“Hey,” he reached out and brushed the underside of her chin, urging her to look at him.  “It’s not stupid.  Given our history, our work, the things we’ve been through...it’s not stupid.”

 

She shook her head and put both hands on her stomach.  “Everything comes back okay, I shouldn’t be so...I just don’t know what I can trust.”

 

Mulder put his arm around her and she rested her head against his chest.  He rubbed her back and she sighed.  When she didn’t pull away, he put his other arm around her and set his chin on the top of her head.

 

“We’ll figure it out,” he said.  Minutes went by and she still didn’t pull away, so he continued to hold her.

 

“Why don’t you ever stay?” she asked.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You’re here all the time, but you never stay.  Not since…”

 

“My Lazarus impression?”

 

Scully pulled away with her head down and Mulder shoved his hands inside his pockets.  She tucked her hair back over her ears and then shuffled across the room to the dresser and pulled out a set of crib sheets in a buttery shade of yellow.  He helped her tuck in the back edges of the fitted sheet because her arms weren’t long enough and her belly was in the way.

 

“Are you afraid that you’re doing all of this for nothing?” she asked suddenly, her eyes wide and wet when she looked up at him.

 

“For nothing?”

 

“Because the samples could’ve very well been tampered with when we tried the in vitro.  Who knows what Cancerman did to me when I went with him that weekend.  We were only together a few times before you were taken.  You have every reason to question the existence of this baby, Mulder and...and your part in it.  I won’t blame you if you just want to walk away.”

 

Mulder was fairly certain Scully didn’t realize she was crying.  He held her face with both hands and brushed her tears away with his thumbs.  She blinked up at him as though she was shocked she’d just spoken out loud.

 

“It’s your call, Scully,” he said.  “Whatever place I have in your life, it’s up to you.”

 

“But, what do  _ you _ want, Mulder?”

 

His lips moved before he actually spoke.  “I want it to have been one of those few times.”

 

“So do I,” she whispered.  “But, what if...what if…”

 

“What if suddenly you’re an alien baby baby mama?”

 

Scully pulled away, wiping her eyes with her knuckles.  

 

“They're aren't any textbooks out there for this,” he said.  “No What to Expect When You're Expecting an Alien Baby.”

 

“Mulder!” she exclaimed, a scowl forming on her face, brows deeply pinched.

 

“That’s it, isn’t it?” he asked.  “What you’re afraid to say out loud.  You think the baby might not be human.”

 

She licked her lips and swallowed, but said nothing.  She didn't have to.  He knew it was true because it was his fear too.  She wiped her eyes again and then put her hands under the bottom swell of her belly.  Mulder took a step closer into her space and put his hands on the top swell.

 

“We’ll figure it out, Scully,” he said.  “We always do.”

 

She gave another nod, but her eyes were on the floor.  “I just want him to be healthy,” she said.

 

“I know.”  He tried to ignore the fact that she may have just given it away that the baby was a boy.  She’d been trying so hard not to reveal the gender, only referring to the baby as ‘my baby’, but maybe it wasn’t about the gender at all.  Maybe she’d been trying to convince herself it was a  _ baby _ she was carrying,  _ her own _ baby, and not something inhuman.  Maybe he'd kept his distance at first because he thought the same thing.

 

“I want him to have a normal life,” she said.

 

“Of course.”  She’d said  _ him _ again.  A boy.  A son.   _ His _ son.

 

“I’m sorry, I forgot all about the pizza.”

 

Mulder blinked, startled by the change in subject.  Scully was rubbing her face with both hands like she was tired and she probably was.  Emotionally, mentally exhausted.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, hoping she knew he wasn’t talking about the pizza.

 

“I’m craving mushrooms tonight.  Is that okay?”

 

“I’ll pick them off.  Hey,” he said, taking her arm as she went to walk out of the room.

 

“What?”

 

“You mind if I stay tonight?”

 

Her eyes were on his chest as she answered.  “I’d like that.”

  
“Good.”

 

*****

 

“I don’t understand, Mulder,” she whispered.  “They came to take him from us.  Why they didn't…”

 

Mulder looked down at the perfect little baby in his arms, surprised at how naturally it came to him, the urge to sway and rock from side to side.  “I don't quite understand that either,” he said.  “Except that maybe he isn't what they thought he was. That doesn't make him any less of a miracle though, does it?”

 

“From the moment I became pregnant, I feared the truth.  About how, and why.”  She lifted her eyes and looked up at Mulder.  “And I know that you feared it, too.”

 

“I think what we feared were the possibilities,” he said, tearing his eyes away from his son to look at her.  “The truth we both know.”

 

“Which is what?” she asked.

 

Hopefully the answer lay in one of those few times they were together.  He didn't really know how to say that to her, so he kissed her instead, wanting her to know that even with lingering unknowns, he still loved her.  And now this little bundle squirming in his arms.  

 

Scully was the one to pull away when the baby made a noise, something between a squawk and a chirp.  Her hand went to William’s fuzzy little head while Mulder tilted him higher to look into his face.

 

“I take it back, Scully,” Mulder said.  “Now that I see him in this light, he's way too good looking to take after Skinner.  With far more hair as well.”

 

Scully smiled as she stroked William’s head.  The baby turned towards Mulder’s chest and started rubbing his face against his shirt.  Mulder freed one hand so that he was cradling him in one arm and took one of William’s hands.  William gripped Mulder’s finger and drew it into his mouth.  

 

“I think someone might be hungry,” Mulder said, glancing over at Scully.  “And not for pizza, I’m guessing.”

 

“Let me sit down,” she said, turning to move slowly towards the bed.  

 

Mulder followed, rocking William back and forth as the baby began to furiously gnaw on his knuckle.  His little face grew pinched and red.  Scully settled back against her pillows and nodded at Mulder.  He gingerly transferred the baby into her arms and slipped his knuckle free from William’s mouth.  Will made a noise of frustrated protest and Scully worked at the buttons at the top of her shirt.

 

“Mulder, could you…”

 

“Of course,” he said, quickly averting his eyes and turning away.  “I'll just-”

 

“...grab the burp cloth by the bassinet for me?”

 

“Oh.  Yes, sure.”  

 

Mulder picked up the small rag folded next to the bassinet and took it over to Scully.  Seeing as though she clearly had her hands full trying to guide William's mouth to her breast, he draped it over her shoulder and she glanced up at him, but turned her attention back to the task at hand.  He tried not to look, to stare, but he was too fascinated not to.  Not because it was Scully's bare breast...okay, not  _ just _ because it was Scully's bare breast, but because this little creature was about to take sustenance and comfort from it.

 

Scully seemed to be having a bit of trouble, though.  She winced and then looked wearily up at Mulder and shifted against the pillows.  “We’re still a little new at this,” she said, sheepishly.

 

Mulder had been reading a lot of pregnancy books lately and he knew far too much than he wanted to know about troubles with latching and cracked nipples and blocked ducts.  Far too much.

 

“Gee, Scully,” Mulder said.  “At four hours old I would’ve thought any kid of yours would be able to speak seven languages and solve quadratic equations.”

 

“Must take after you, then.”

 

“I’d like to think I know my way around a breast when I’m fortunate enough to have one in front of me, thank you very much.  I hope you’ll vouch for me in that department.”

 

Scully blushed and dropped her eyes to William, who seemed to have got the hang of things and was sucking contentedly.  “Sit down, Mulder,” she said, softly.  “You’re making me nervous.”

 

Mulder shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto the chair in Scully’s corner.  He bent down to unlace his shoes and then stepped out of them before he moved up on the bed next to Scully.  She scooted over a little to make room, but he put his arm around her and brought her closer.  She relaxed and lay her head back on his shoulder.

 

“He’s perfect, Scully.”

 

“Yeah,” she answered, brushing the side of her finger down William’s cheek.

 

Only after a few minutes of nursing, William’s eyes closed and feeding became an unconscious, instinctual act.  Scully and Mulder watched him quietly, neither quite believing he was real.

 

Mulder touched one of William’s feet that was sticking out from the blanket.  The baby kicked and managed to dislodge his tiny sock.  Too far to reach for the bedside table, Mulder stuffed it in his pocket and then touched the little toes which curled reflexively against his finger.  He then reached for William’s hand and inspected the itty bitty fingernails.  

 

Scully took one of William’s hands and brought it to her mouth to kiss his palm.  She ran her hand over the white blonde fuzz on his head and stroked his browline.  Her arms were strangely already accustomed to his weight, like he’d always been there and she just hadn’t realized it.

 

Suddenly, William’s mouth went slack and he twisted his head away.  His face contorted slightly and he pulled his foot away from Mulder’s caress.  Squirming, he let out a great expulsion of gas that startled both Mulder and Scully.  Mulder was the first to laugh and Scully followed, lifting the baby up to her shoulder to pat his back just in case a belch would soon follow.

 

“Hey, kid,” Mulder said, squeezing William’s bare foot lightly.  “Say excuse me when you do that.  Sorry, Scully.  Maybe he does take after me.”

 

Scully chuckled and kissed William’s head as she continued to pat his back.  “Mulder?” she asked.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Will you stay?”

 

“I’d like that.”

 

“Good.”

 

*****

 

Mulder didn't sleep at night anymore.  Not that he slept that much before, but whenever he did fall asleep, he woke in a panic, the sound of a baby crying still faintly thrumming in his ears.

 

He wished what kept him awake was one of those new parent things.  All the books advised to sleep when the baby slept.  That wasn't an option, though.  There was no baby.  Well, there was a baby, he just wasn't there.

 

It was cold in the little trailer Mulder lived in in the New Mexico desert.  They were a day away from the Winter solstice.  Christmas was in five days.  William was seven months old exactly.

 

As he did most nights, Mulder lay in bed, not sleeping, rubbing the soft little newborn sock that he'd pulled out of his pocket the week after he'd ended up in New Mexico.  It was the only memento he had of his son and he'd broke down weeping when he found it.

 

He slipped his thumb inside the sock, marveling at how snugly it fit, but for the life of him he couldn't remember if William’s foot has actually been that small.  It must've been, to fit so securely.  He remembered the feel of the toes curling against his finger when he touched the bottom of the baby's foot.  He also remembered the fierce grip William had taken of his finger.  

 

Surely William was no longer that small.  All the books said he'd have grown up to an inch a month and doubled his birthweight by now.  Last night he'd taken a ruler and measured 26 inches against the wall and wrapped up stacks of canned food in a blanket to estimate what holding 18 pounds of baby might feel like.

 

Every milestone he missed depressed him further.  He imagined William accomplishing the things he read about and wished he could've been there.  Peek-a-boo would probably be his favorite game at this point.  He'd know how to sit up and roll over and maybe even throw a ball.  He'd have teeth / maybe three or four of them now.  Mulder wondered if Scully was still breastfeeding.  He wondered how blue William’s eyes would be by now, because even though Scully insisted all babies had blue eyes, he knew that William’s were destined to be just as blue as his mother’s.

 

Though it was maybe too early to tell, Mulder wondered what kind of traits the baby had inherited.  Was he a moody baby, like Mulder could be?  Was he determined, like Scully?  Was he stubborn, like both his parents?  Curious?  Observant?  Did he have his mother’s skeptical brow or his father’s pouty lip?  Or was he simply his own person; one that laughed often, slept well, and trusted easily?

 

It wasn't fair.  The good guys were supposed to have happy endings.  They were supposed to be able to ride off into sunsets, raise their families in houses with white picket fences and porch swings, live happily ever after.  They weren't supposed to be driven apart by fear.  He was supposed to protect his son by being his father, not by leaving him behind.  Remember the days when they thought the worst that could happen was that the baby was an alien?  The isolation was much worse.

 

As usual, the tears gathered in Mulder’s eyes and he blinked them away.  He shoved the little sock back in his pocket and turned onto his side.  It was cold enough to see his breath in the trailer.  He wondered if Scully put William in snow suits and mittens and little stupid hats with flaps on the ears to keep him warm.

 

The funny thing was, it was a sunny, warm day when he'd left.  By early morning, the humidity and heat were already oppressive and Scully had worried over turning the air conditioner on because it might not be good for the baby.  It was the last conversation they'd had, and then he had to go.

 

Scully had let him hold William for one last time and he walked away for a moment to have a man-to-man conversation with him.   _ I hope it’s not for too long, buddy, but take care of your mom for me.  Be good.  Don’t wrinkle your nose up when she orders mushrooms on her pizza.  Try not to worry about things.  Don’t forget me. _

 

He’d put the baby in the bassinet and wrapped his arms around Scully from behind because she wouldn’t turn around and face him.

 

_ “Scully, are you sure this is…” _

 

_ “I don’t think we have a choice, Mulder.” _

 

_ “I don’t want to go.” _

 

_ “Please, don’t make this any harder.” _

 

_ “I want to stay, Scully.  I’ve always wanted to stay.” _

 

_ “And I want you to stay too, Mulder.  So badly.” _

 

And then he let her go.  Because neither of them knew what else to do and suddenly their number one priority was the safe-keeping of the little life sleeping in his little basket.  William might only be forty-eight hours old, but Mulder already knew he’d give up his life for him in a heartbeat.  If it would keep him safe, he would do anything.  

 

If only there was a book out there that could help him cope.  Everything You Wanted to Know About Being Exiled in the First Seven Months of Your Baby’s Life, But Were Afraid to Ask.  Maybe he would think about writing one himself.  If he survived it.

 

The End

  
  
  
  



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